


Promises He Won't Keep

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Godswood, Heartbreak, angsty, this is not a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: Jon returns North after his visit to Dragonstone and meets in secret with Sansa.





	Promises He Won't Keep

**Author's Note:**

> This was written around season 6's end or the start of season 7. I make no promises with canon consistency.

_He is back, here again, home in Winterfell, where he belongs_. Sansa clutches her heavy woolen skirts in her hands when Brienne brings her the news and before her valiant knight can finish relaying his message, the Lady of Winterfell is off and running breathlessly through the halls of the keep, skidding round the corners, pounding down the stairs, and pushing through the crowds of workmen and practicing soldiers in the courtyard. She feels as giddy as a child, mischievous as Arya at seven years old, and cannot help the great, wide smile that fills her face like she has just eaten a hundred freshly baked lemoncakes.

Sansa slows pace as she passes her people by, realizing that all eyes will be on her and she must not seem so eager for something that they will view as a regular task.

Ser Davos snuck Jon into the castle in a merchant's cart, not wanting the King in the North to be bogged down by the politics of preparing a castle for an endless war. She finds him in the godswood of the Starks, sitting still as the pool of water besides him with a steaming mug of tea cupped between his hands. Not a breath of wind rustles the red leaves above him, the colors of the hearttree standing out brightly against the white trunk and snow around him. _He is a vision_ , she thinks, staring at him sitting there. _A vision of a true king_.

Sansa is struck by how much Jon looks like her father, long face and dark hair and dark clothes. Sansa swallows as she steps into the glade, a twig cracking beneath her foot. There is so much Jon does not know. He glances up, grey eyes meeting blue. A smile passes across his face, short and fleeting, but still the same kind, warm Jon she knows.

"Sansa."

In an instant, he sets the drink beside him, steps close and pulls her close against his chest. Sansa relaxes in his arms in a way she cannot in those of anyone else. Arya's hold was a welcome respite when she arrived and Bran was warm and comforting as he was as a child, but her siblings cannot compare to _this_. Jon is her wall, her protector, and she hopes and prays he can be something more. But yet, he does not know any of this for she, as Lady of Winterfell, is the first person that Ser Davos sent for to meet with the king in the woods. Bran has not told him the news yet, he does not know who he is. Jon came this way to see Arya and Bran, but he still wanted to see her first. _Surely that means something?_

Since she cannot tell him all these things that are not hers to tell, Sansa holds herself to him and lets her eyes close, enjoying this tranquil moment between them. She breaths in the scent of him, pine and wood and wolves, and feels the softness of the cloak she made across the strength of the muscles in his arms and back.

Jon is the first to pull back, and though it pains her, Sansa understands. He came back to see the people that he had thought dead, for now. There is such a short amount of time before when he leaves Winterfell again. Her siblings would be glad to see him, certainly, this man they have loved and accepted since childhood. Sansa wishes she saw it then, the goodness in him, and had looked beyond the judgments ingrained in her.  But she is glad she did not, too, for if she saw him as a brother, she could never see him as a lover. She wonders if Bran would tell Jon the truth of his birth.

One night, as late darkness crept through the castle and kept Sansa, Arya, and Bran awake in all their separate nightmares, the three of them had crowded around Sansa's solar fire to share their stories from the many years they had been apart.

In that confession of the horrid deeds they had done to stay alive and all they wished they could undo, Bran had told another secret. Jon was not their Jon as they had known him, but their cousin, born of poor dead Aunt Lyanna. Sansa's heart had stuttered at that, unsure of how to take the months they had spent growing close as siblings in the way they never had as children. But from there on, her thoughts upon Jon changed. She found herself thinking of the way his hair curled so comfortably, so handsomely familiar against his head. It was no longer a scaring thought to consider his strength and the warmth of his embrace, not when he would not be their sibling.

Now she must still act as his sister, until the few hours thy are together and he knows. Sansa sighs, quietly so he cannot hear, and joins him on the bench beneath the tree. Jon picks up his drink and takes a long draught from its contents, steam as grey as his eyes swirling out and framing his face. She spreads her hands against her skirt and starts with something simple and innocuous. "How is the South? Do they have snow as well, on Dragonstone? I know it has been in the Vale."

"Yes, there is, but not as heavy as what we have here." Jon clasps his hands and leans forward, forearms on his muscled thighs. "Dany has taken well to it, though. Her forces began stocking the castle for the Winter the moment they arrived."

"Dany?" Sansa heard the way his voice caressed this stranger's name, gentle as a song he never sang before.

"The Dragon Queen." Jon's eyes widen in appreciation, and he launches into the tale of his first meeting with Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Despite the ringing alarm bells in her mind, Sansa admires the woman's courage, coming to claim her birthright, and the political tact she exhibited when meeting with the King in the North. And yet, there is something in her that can never forgive the sister of Jon's father, who kidnapped his mother and left her alone in a Dornish tower to die in a pool of blood.

"And she's said she'll help us, if we can bring her proof of the Long Night." Jon finishes his description, words flying fast from his mouth. He licks his lips, throat certainly dry from all his speaking.

"That's wonderful." Sansa bites her lip and fiddles her fingers. This is nothing like how she thought this conversation would go. She did not expect him to be in love with someone else. "How will you bring it to her?"

"A group of warriors will go beyond the wall and find a wight to bring to her." He says it like the task is a simple one. "And then we will show it to them all - Dany and Cersei and Euron, and anymore kings or queens that appear along the way."

Jon pauses a long moment to study her face. Finally, he offers her the mug between his hands. "You look frozen - your cheeks are the reddest I've ever seen them."

She accepts his offered drink, though it is not the cold that makes her feel like crying now. Sansa looks across a short distance to him, but though he is next to her they has never felt so far apart. "Where will you go?"

"North, the South again. I must go on this tour, to offer my courage and knowledge to the band and the men who would risk their lives." He sighs, but it is not necessarily a sad sigh. "And to offer validity to the royals of Westeros."

Sansa's thought wander back to the last time she asked that question, and when his answer was so very different. She thinks of the dreams of their reunion, and how much sweeter she wished this would be.

"Must you go South again?" She does not mean it to, but her voice comes out as more a whine then a question.

"Yes." The answer is instant. "The South is a … different place. And Dany is a wonder. It is an amazement to work with her, to try and solve the problems of this oncoming war with such a magnificent queen."

At her silence, Jon continues. "You should see her dragons, when this is all over."

"Will it ever be?" Sansa sighs and bites her lip again. It is bittersweet reunion, to know he is a Targaryen without Jon knowing it himself. But any doubt that was left in her mind is erased by the love he has for this queen, the only family of his true house.

Jon takes up her hand in his, runs his thumb across her knuckles. His other hand holds her face, and it takes everything in her not to lean into his touch, to reach for the warmth of him, to try and hold him once more while he is still hers to hold. "I swear it will be, over and better and greater than it was before.

"I will return to Winterfell at the end of this war. I died once, and I plan to live this life as long as I can. We will rebuild our Father's home, restore the castle to its former glory, you and me and Bran and Arya. I swear to make it right again, for all of us. Dany and her dragons are the key to that victory and change, and it will be glorious."

She sees it in his eyes, when Jon glances into the black pool and sighs wistfully at this third mention of Daenerys. He will not keep this promise. Not to her, not even if he makes it to Bran and Arya both. There is something waiting for Jon in the South, a queen who will need to strengthen her claim and her bloodline. Targaryens married each sister to brother enough that aunt to nephew will make no difference to the people of the realm. If she loves him as he loves her, they will be unstoppable together. He may not see it, but his fondness for Dany and the necessity of her strength all will mean a bride and queen for him.

Sansa squeezes his hands once last time. With her next breath out, she lets go of a foolish girl's dreams. She is Lady of Winterfell and winter is here, just as her father always promised it would be. People turned to her to feed them and keep them warm, to lead them through the Long Night. She is no longer that stupid little girl. Now, there are more important things than dreams and songs. There is life and the world around her, more important than those hopes inside her.

Jon kisses her on the forehead, gentle as a snowflake. 

She stands and walks away. Her lips are swollen from the times she has bit them, and she feels the heat rising in her cheeks. Tears prick her eyes but she will not let them fall, not here where he can see them come.

"Sansa?" Jon says. The sound of her name on his lips breaks her heart.

Her head turns, slightly. She almost goes back and tells him everything, but his heart is another's and the lie of his life is Bran's secret to share, not hers.

"Goodbye, Jon. I'll send Arya and Bran to see you immediately." She runs a hand across the place where his thumb pressed into her own, and leaves behind her cousin and her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up at [tumblr](https://www.jonsainthenorth.tumblr.com) for more Game of Thrones fun.


End file.
